


Dancing Through Our House With The Ghost Of You

by Deliasbabe



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: F/F, Kind of a character study, There was a lack of Billie content and I'm fixing it, This wont have a happy ending, there will be smut, this is angsty af
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22827778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deliasbabe/pseuds/Deliasbabe
Summary: Billie Dean deals with her own ghosts. Each chapter is song inspired, entire fic is inspired by "Ghost of You" by 5SOS. Brought to you from tumblr.
Relationships: Billie Dean Howard/Original Character(s), Billie Dean Howard/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

As Billie stepped out of the taxi and grabbed her luggage, she glanced up at the place she at one time called home. It still was home, in the general sense. All her things were there, all her pots and pans and picture frames. But could she really call a place she hadn’t stepped foot in in almost a year _home_? 

Ten months and sixteen days, to be exact. She kept count. The trip was only supposed to last six months, just a quick visit to some of the most haunted places in Europe for her new special. But the longer Billie was gone, the more she realized she didn’t want to return, not that there was much to come home to anymore. She kept extending the trip, using the extra funds from you not being there to do it. Then, once Lifetime’s funding ran out, she financed the trip herself, dragging her new assistant, Amanda, along with her.

As the medium stepped through the threshold, she could have sworn she heard the familiar humming of that one NSYNC song you always played on loop, the one Billie relentlessly teased you for. It put her at ease, sent the butterflies in her stomach swirling about, only to be crushed moments later by reality. There was no humming, no NSYNC song, and most importantly, there was no you.

“I can take your bags to your room for you.” Amanda offered, breaking Billie out of her trance. She didn’t know how long she had been standing there, but it must have been a while. 

She shook her head, still dazed. “No, sweetheart. That’s ok, I can do it. Why don’t you…” Billie trailed off, too lost in her own thoughts to say a proper command.

“Get dinner started?” Amanda asked, Billie nodding in return, “Stir fry ok?”

“Yes darling, that’s fine.” Billie said, Amanda quickly reaching for Billie’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze, but all it did was make the woman’s veins run ice cold. It was wrong, so so wrong. In the absence of you, Billie had so carelessly fallen back into her old ways, and in turn, Amanda had fallen into her bed. She hated to think that the girl she had showered with affections only days before now repulsed her, but the woman had to face the fact that Amanda was only a placeholder, a European flame, although Billie knew her assistant thought it was more, thought _she_ was more.

Billie carefully walked up the steps, hating the hollow sound her heels made when they came in contact with the refinished wood. Everything about this was harsh, even the silence. Her home always used to be so soft, comforting, like her own personal safety blanket. Nothing had changed, the house was still the same, and Billie had to wonder if maybe it was you who kept the house alive, kept its heart beating and warm blood pumping through its veins. Maybe, maybe not. Maybe the house was just a house, maybe you were just you, but something told Billie the chill in the air wasn’t thawing anytime soon.

Billie threw her suitcase on the perfectly made, king sized bed and kicked off her heels. It didn’t feel right to call it her bed anymore, not when she could still smell your perfume on the comforter, not when the echoes of your giggles radiated around the room. Billie had always been sensitive to energies, lingering presences that had been etched into the walls and woven into the fibers of the 1000-count sheets, and yours was everywhere. She untucked her silk button down and unzipped her pants, changing into her favorite pajamas that she had for whatever reason decided to leave behind. She wasn’t the type to change right after arriving home, you had spent countless nights teasing her about wearing her heels until the moment she climbed into bed. But something about the way the silk felt on her skin made her want to scream, and truthfully with the way the night was going, she wasn’t sure she would be awake much longer. With a sigh she sat on the bed, unzipping her suitcase and pulling out the contents, ready to put each article back in its designated spot and erase all of Europe from her memory. She heard the soft padding of bare feet on the stairs, glancing up to see you, dressed only in her striped button down and leaning on the doorframe. It wasn’t real, she knew it wasn’t, but she couldn’t help but indulge herself for a moment, memorizing the kinks in your mused hair, your gleaming smile and the way you gripped tightly to her favorite coffee mug.

_“Thought you might want some coffee.”_

That was the morning after the first night you two had spent together, and it was a moment Billie wanted to burn into her brain for eternity. Still, she hated to torture herself like this, and she forced herself to look away from your form, shaking her head to clear the vision. She glanced back at the open door to see it empty, and breathed a sigh of relief, or despair, she wasn’t sure which. 

When the smell of dinner began to waft into the bedroom, Billie decided to head back down. Despite her being fully aware that she was leading Amanda on, she felt obligated to keep the charade up for a little longer, if nothing else than to keep Billie away from her own thoughts, which seemed to be quickly spiraling. The unfamiliar feeling of her own bare feet on the wooden steps gave her a sense of grounding, or so she thought. Things were different, she was different, and there was no use being swept up in the past. 

She heard the familiar song before she had even made it to the ground floor, her heart pounding wildly as the tune blended with the sizzling of the stove. 

_“And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills…”_

Billie’s steps lightened, sneaking up to the entryway of the kitchen and indulging herself for a moment. You always sang while you were cooking. Frankly, there really wasn’t ever a moment you weren’t singing or humming or making noise in general, and Billie loved it. She loved hearing you from rooms away, loved knowing you were always there, loved always having you on her mind. She watched you push the vegetables around the pan and she smiled softly, but something felt wrong, and the smile quickly dissipated. It didn’t sound like you, it sounded like…

“Billie? Billie?” Amanda asked, snapping the woman out of her trance, “Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m fine dear.” Billie said, glancing down at the floor as her heart dropped, reality settling in once again. This was wrong, all of this was wrong.

“Are you sure?” Amanda asked as Billie glanced back up, “You’re crying, love.”

The medium swiped her thumb across her cheek, catching a single tear with the long nail. She didn’t even know she was doing it, and she let out a small, frustrated grunt. Her gaze returned back to the floor, “Why don’t you head home sweetheart? I can finish this.” She didn’t dare look up, not wanting to see the disappointment stamped across the redhead’s face. She knew Amanda thought she would be staying, there was hardly a night she didn’t end up in Billie’s bed, but even the idea made the woman’s skin crawl. 

“Are you sure? Because I can…” Amanda said, Billie glancing up only long enough to see the realization sink in and her jilted lover’s face harden, “Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow, Billie.”

Billie knew she wouldn’t be back. It would be just like all the times before, all the times where she had so carelessly thrown her flings to the curb. All of the women before you, probably all of the women after. Her resignation would be a text, effective immediately, once it finally set in that she was just like the rest, one of the many. She wouldn’t be able to bring herself to call, not that Billie blamed her. She knew what she was, what she always had been. A womanizer who loved the chase, but couldn’t ever get serious. The longer the chase was, the longer the relationship would last, but she really didn’t have to say much to get Amanda into bed, and so really, the game was over before it had even begun.

You were different, or at least Billie thought you were different, right up until she did the same to you. But you weren’t easy to catch, and maybe that was why she held on so long. You weren’t wooed by her shameless flirting, you had no interest in her games. She actually had to _work_ for you, fight for you, and you weren’t an easy girl to trap. When she finally got ahold of you, she swore it would be different. But if it was different, you would still be there, you would have gone with her to Europe, not Amanda, just like you two had planned. 

Then again, maybe it was different. Billie knew she wouldn’t think twice about letting Amanda go, in a week she wouldn’t even remember her name. She would be a face, one of the many, that would fade quickly. But Billie had spent the past ten months thinking of you constantly, wishing it were you and not her. That had never happened before. She certainly didn’t see ghosts of her past lovers floating around the halls, just you.

Forgetting about dinner entirely, Billie decided to tackle her demons head on. She wanted to get it over with, despite knowing it would be brutal. She didn’t want to see flickers of you every time she entered a new room over the next few days, didn’t want the constant reminder, so she grabbed a bottle of wine and moved through the rooms one by one, choking down tears. There you were, begging her to dance in the living room, studying at the dining room table, standing in her office covered in paint. Each memory was like taking a dagger to her chest, one after the other. There wasn’t a single room in the house where she didn’t see you, didn’t feel an ounce of your presence. One bottle of wine quickly turned to two, trying to numb the aching feeling that was spreading from bone to bone, nerve to nerve. It was harder than she thought, brutal in every way. You were smiling at her from the balcony, whispering to her in the bathroom, you had even left your mark in the laundry room, and it hurt, it really fucking hurt.

By the end she was stumbling, the second bottle dropped and shattered somewhere on the second floor. She didn’t care, because as she fumbled down the stairs, she was hit with the sucker punch. You were standing by the doorway, bags packed and gauze covering your forehead, hiding the numerous stitches underneath, the ones from the car accident. Your cheeks were tear stained, red rimmed eyes staring back at her filled with hurt and betrayal.

_“Bill, are you sure you want to do this?”_

Billie dropped, tucking her knees to her chest as she let out a guttural sob. She didn’t want to do it; she knows she didn’t. Hell, she knew then, but she couldn’t stop herself, and she did. She let you go, all because she was scared. That accident almost killed you, and the medium realized she couldn’t bear the idea of losing you. She hated that she was so attached, and once you said those words, she snapped. She ended things and they ended badly, and she never gave a reason, but you knew, you knew her better than she knew herself. She pushed you away because at least then it was a _choice_ , and Billie needed that choice. 

The woman looked up and you were still there, your eyes boring into hers as you shook your head.

_“Bye, Billie.”_

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Billie sobbed, dropping her head into her knees, hoping if she didn’t look, she wouldn’t see you walk out that door, never to return. But Billie couldn’t run from this, couldn’t pack her bags and head back to Europe, not anymore. But this house wasn’t home without you, and Billie wasn’t Billie without you, and you were gone. She hurt you, broke your heart in two, and now she had to pay the price.

She sobbed and sobbed until her lungs burned, never lifting her head. She heard the front door open, instinctually turning away from the noise. “Amanda,” She squeaked out, “I told you that you could go home.”

There was no response, and Billie thought she must have imagined it, that was until she heard a familiar voice.

“Billie?”


	2. When You're Gone

_ “Billie?” _

Billie glanced up, preparing for another image of you that would only disappear, but once she locked eyes with you she knew it wasn’t a figment of her imagination. You were dressed in an oversized hoodie Billie had never seen you in before, presumably covering your shorts beneath it. Your hair was shorter and a little lighter, falling in loose waves around your chin. Between Billie’s wine drunk haze and the streetlights glowing behind you, you looked ethereal in every way, her own personal guardian angel.

“What are you doing here?” Billie whispered, confused by your abrupt arrival.

You furrowed your brow, before taking in your ex lover’s obviously inebriated state, “You called me.”

She searched her swirling memory for a moment, trying to recall when exactly she would have called, coming up empty. It must have happened if you were here, standing right in front of her. She didn’t respond, didn’t know what she could possibly say, but you knew that. Instead, you kneeled down in front of her so you were at eye level, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear gently. You always knew exactly what she needed.

“You’re here.” Billie whispered, almost like she didn’t believe it, like any second you would vanish into thin air and she would be alone once again.

You gave a soft nod, “I am. Now let’s get you moved to the couch, hm?” You had dealt with Billie’s breakdowns before, when her job got too heavy and real for her to handle. You knew her like the back of your hand, but you had never seen her quite like this. You grabbed her hand and tugged her up, depositing her on the couch before heading to the kitchen for some wine. You knew for certain she had already had far too much for a casual evening, but even the simple action of holding the full glass in her hand seemed to calm her, or at least, it used to.

You saw the smoke before you had even entered the kitchen, quickly walking over to the stove and turning it off before depositing the charred remains of the forgotten stir fry in the garbage. Billie was never one for eating more than one proper meal in a day, and you usually had to force her to even eat one, so the chances that she hadn’t eaten were pretty high, and you quickly dialed the pizza place around the corner that you always ordered from. It wasn’t the most nutritious meal, but it was something to help avoid the hangover.

When you returned to the living room with two full wine glasses in hand, Billie had managed to get herself curled up under a blanket, and you were thankful you didn’t see the same emptiness in her eyes that had greeted you upon your arrival. You held out one of the glasses, which she took with shakey hands and a small thank you, before you took up residence on the opposite side of the couch, tucking your knees under you in the way you always did, like this place was still your home and nothing had changed.

Billie glanced at you for a moment, “Since when do you drink red?”

You gave a gentle laugh, “It was all you had. Did you just get back?”

Billie nodded slightly, “You look good.”

“Thank you.” You said politely, knowing Billie was always the charmer. But to you, it didn’t feel like a compliment, it felt like a distraction.

“What have you been up to?” Billie asked, making polite chit chat like you didn’t just see her at her worst. It was the only thing she could think of to do. She didn’t know what exactly she had said to you, but it had to have been pretty bad for you to show up after what she did.

You knew it was just her trying to skirt around the pressing issue, likely due to embarrassment. Still, you feared that emptiness returning once again, so you indulged her, “I went home for the summer, spent time with my parents. I just… I needed to get out of LA. It was good for me.”

Billie nodded, she knew you always hated the city, that it made you feel like you were drowning. You two had talked about moving away together, but with her job, she was always tied to LA, or at least California. She still was having trouble saying anything, because there was so much she wanted to say, but the words were tied down, lodged in the pit of her stomach and sinking.

“Did you find any particularly scary ghosts while abroad?” You ask, your tone slightly teasing, which only made the woman smile.

“No,” She said with a laugh, “I couldn’t understand half of them.”

You snickered, “Kind of fucked up that even ghosts have a language barrier.”

And oh, Billie was swooning at your candor. It was one of her favorite things about you, how you always seemed to know just how to break the tension, how to draw her out of even her darkest moments and make her see the light. But nothing about this was light, not with the guilt pressing on her shoulders with every kind word you spoke. You should have been angry, furious with her. Every word should have been biting, calloused, cold, but then again, it was you. She focused on her wine, swirling it for a moment, if only to give her a second to think. You noticed, you always noticed. “You don’t want it?” You asked, cocking your head to the side.

“No, I do.” Billie said, shaking her head, “I just haven’t eaten. My dinner is still on the stove.”

“Your dinner is in the garbage.” You joked, “You may have let it cook for just a tad too long.” You watched the medium bite her lip as a blush creeped up her cheeks, an unusual sight, “I ordered pizza. It should be here soon.” Billie met your gaze, but only briefly before she looked away and nodded, finally taking a sip of the wine. “So what happened, Bill?” You asked softly, pushing just enough.

“I didn’t tell you?” Billie asked quietly, shifting her gaze to stare at her lap.

“You said you were seeing ghosts.” You responded.

Billie pursed her lips, “I was.”

“You don’t have any ghosts.” You stated.

Billie gave a soft sigh, “I do now.”

You chuckled softly, “Did someone die while I was away?”

“I saw you.” Billie said bluntly, tired of whatever dance she was forcing you to partake in. Billie always liked games, but she couldn’t bear to do it with you, not anymore.

Billie glanced up as your face fell solemn, and she hated herself for forcing you to take on more of her pain. This was her fault, all of it. She shouldn’t have called you. You were quiet for a moment, nodding slightly, “You haven’t been back since it happened, have you?” Billie shook her head, embarrassed. “Yea, that’ll do it. It happened to me too, when I went back to my apartment.” You said, trying to let her know she wasn’t alone, “That’s why I left for a while, to give me time to… deal with it, I guess.”

“Have you?” Billie asked, secretly terrified of the answer, of being alone in this torture.

You chuckled lightly, “Well I’m here, so I’ll let you be the judge.”

The answer was very you, but it was also very telling. You always dropped everything to be there for her, regardless of what she had done, and although Billie was thankful for it, it also made her heart ache. She hurt you, and you were still here, still picking up her broken pieces when she was too proud to pick up yours. You were ten times the person she would ever be, and you deserved better than her, but all she could think about was how you were inches away from her, how she could lean over and kiss you and everything would be ok again.

But before she could make her move, the doorbell rang, and with it the urge was taken out like the tide. Billie took a moment to compose herself as you grabbed the food, wiping at her smudged makeup and smoothing down her hair, smiling when you returned with one very large pizza box in hand. It seemed utterly absurd to order that much food for just two people, but you always had been the planner, and you knew the medium well enough to assume it would be days before she made it to the grocery store. At least this way she had some leftovers to carry her through.

“Let’s get some food in you.” You teased, handing the woman a greasy slice. She nibbled on it for a moment, not really sure she actually even wanted to eat, as you looked around. “Where is your assistant?” You asked.

“Hm?” Billie responded.

“Your assistant?” You asked, “I’m sure you got a new one. You used to have me here from the moment you woke up until you went to bed, even when we weren’t together.”

“That’s because I liked you.” Billie said, trying to hide behind a teasing tone. You weren’t wrong, she did have you there constantly, but that was because she had feelings for you. She made it seem like it had always been that way, but the truth of it was it was just you, her previous assistants she hardly ever called on, she just preferred to handle things herself.

“And you don’t like her?” You teased back, watching your ex avert her gaze and shrug, which told you everything you needed to know. “Ah, got it.” You said with a laugh, trying to diffuse the tension.

“It was a long trip.” Billie said defensively. It was a half assed attempt and she knew it, but god forbid she say she actually  _ missed _ you.

You held your hands up in mock surrender, “Hey, I don’t really have room to judge anymore. Not hard to fall in love with the boss.”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t been with anyone else. It’s been almost a year.” Billie said, knowing she was only trying to crush her own heart, beat it into submission with the idea that you really had moved on, that she wasn’t as important as she thought she was.

You gave a half-hearted shrug, not wanting to make the woman feel any worse, but Billie knew what it meant, because it was you. You weren’t the type to fall into bed with just anyone. Sure, you weren’t a virgin when you met, but your body count was confined to one hand, two fingers. Billie, and that guy from college that you swore you were going to marry, until you realized he was a dick and you deserved better. You always were her better half, the only one that seemed to quell her endless impulses. She was better because of you, and then she had to blow it all to shit.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Billie asked as your eyebrows furrowed, “That night, when I made you leave. Why didn’t you stop me?” The question seemed out of the blue, but really it was something she had been agonizing over for months. It wasn’t the first time Billie had acted out and tried to break things off, but it was the first time you didn’t fight back, didn’t force her to sit down and prevent the forest fire erupting inside of her. For as rash as she was, you were the voice of reason, or you had been until that night. That night you just let it burn, let her tear down the house you built brick by brick and swim in the ashes, alone.

“Because I knew I couldn’t.” You said after a moment, taking a note from Billie’s book and staring at your glass of wine as you swirled it around the rim, “You had to figure it out on your own.”

Billie set her jaw, hating that you always seemed to be 10 steps ahead of her, “Figure what out?”

“Why did you call me over here, Billie?” You fired back as you snapped your gaze up, almost like a challenge. You had tried to pull the answer out gently, a subtle game of tug of war, but she was locked up tight, and you were tired of being gentle. Being gentle is what got you into this mess in the first place.

But Billie was her own special kind of stubborn, and your aggression just made her dig her heels in, “I don’t even remember calling you.”

Still, you weren’t going to give up just yet, “But you did.”

Billie straightened her shoulders and picked up her wine, “But I did.”

You let out a barely audible grunt, standing from the couch and collecting the still full pizza box and your wine, heading to the kitchen. You didn’t know why you answered her call, but you did, and now you were here, playing some fucked up game of poker. You both knew why she called, but she wouldn’t say it, and you were about five seconds from exploding.

“What are you doing?” Billie asked in a sarcastic tone, trying to suppress the overwhelming fear that was carving its way into her bones. She hated this, hated knowing you had the upper hand, that you could say and do whatever you wanted and she would buckle instantly. She hated that her heart raced every time you left the room, that she felt every single millimeter of distance between you, hated that the only thing she wanted was to close that gap and be in your arms. It was easy to say she hated you. Hate was easier to deal with, hate lived inside your soul and no one else’s. Hate didn’t need constant validation or reassurances. Hate was solitary, stable, it didn’t fade with time, not like love did.

“Cleaning up. I’m going to get you into bed and then I’m going to go.” You said flatly, forcing yourself to strip every ounce of emotion from your tone. You couldn’t force her to talk to you, but you could make the decision to leave before she kicked you out again.

“Go?” Billie asked, cursing herself for the tears she felt welling up and the rise in her pitch.

“Yea, back to…” You trailed off before shaking your head, “I have to go.”

Billie cleared her throat, trying to keep herself in check, “You could just stay here.” She glanced back at you and you shook your head, and Billie hated how her chest got tight at the very idea of you being gone, of her being alone in this house once again, “You’ve been drinking.”

“I didn’t drive.” You said, crossing your arms and fixating on a scuff on the floor.

“Y/n. Stay, please…” Billie said weakly, blinking rapidly as if that would make the impending waterworks come to a halt.

“That isn’t a good idea….” You said, pausing for a moment and shaking your head before heading back into the kitchen to finish up. If you stayed, it would only prolong whatever this was. You hated hurting her, but you also hated how she made you feel. She made you feel crazy, and there was nothing you hated more than that.

Billie knew she was royally fucking this up, as she always did. It shouldn’t have been hard, just three words,  _ I love you _ , and everything would be fixed. What was she so afraid of? That she would lose you? She already lost you, and she would again if she didn’t just say the damn words.

Sucking in a deep breath, she untangled herself from the blankets and slowly walked towards the kitchen, trying to mentally prepare herself. “You know… when I was in Europe, there was this one ghost I met.” She said, waiting for you to show some kind of response before she continued. It took a moment, but you finished washing the pan you were working on and laid your palms flat on the edge of the sink, turning your head towards her, “He had been in the war, shipped out the day he turned eighteen. He didn’t want to go, but he didn’t have a choice. He had a girlfriend, wanted to marry her, but he never told her he loved her. He regretted it, obviously, but he didn’t think he was going to come back, didn’t want her to have to deal with that kind of loss. He didn’t come back, he died in the trenches, but he wished he would have told her, even once. I did some research, found her. She was 85, got married and had six kids, a bus load of grandchildren. I explained everything to her, told her who I was. You know what she said to me when I told her?”

“What?” You asked with a gravelly voice, and Billie waited a moment until you looked up at her, “What, Bill?”

“She said she already knew. She always knew, even though he could never say it. He was the love of her life, of course she knew. He had spent years, trapped by this guilt, and she knew the entire time.” Billie said softly, shaking her head, “All those years… wasted, wandering around, all for nothing.”

“That’s not why he was trapped.” You blurted, clenching your jaw as you wiped your hands on the kitchen towel, “He wasn’t trapped because he thought she didn’t know, he was trapped because she knew and he still didn’t have the guts to say it, because then it was real. Not saying it… it doesn’t make it easier, it just makes you a coward, lets you hide in plain sight. She knew, but there was always uncertainty about it.” You felt the tears beginning to pile up behind your eyelids, tried to swallow down the thickness in your voice before you cleared your throat, “That’s why he was trapped. That’s what kept him here.”

Billie dropped her head, giving a solemn nod. You were right, you always were right. She was a coward, terrified to give up even an ounce of control. She always was so detached, aloof, at least before you. Now, things were different, and she was struggling to catch up.

When you were the one to break the silence, Billie was surprised, shooting her head up. “I’m glad you were able to help her, though. Make it concrete or whatever. Even if it did take 60 years, it’s better than nothing.” You said, walking towards the center of the room and shuffling your feet, like you were only seconds from gathering your things and walking out the door.

Your mask was quickly slipping, and now Billie knew for certain that you were still in pain, not that she couldn’t assume it already. You were always just so damn good about hiding your feelings, about putting everyone else above yourself, like you didn’t matter. She could see your hurt plain as day now, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss it away. She could feel the words bubbling up in her stomach, but they would lodge in her throat, making it hard to even breathe. She had to kiss you, had to do it right then and there, because it was the only way she knew how to convey every single thing she was feeling for you. She told you she loved you with every kiss, every touch. It was easy to love you that way, but the words were harder, more complicated and weighted.

She moved towards you without even thinking, and you stepped back, playing that game over and over until you were pressed up against the counter with nowhere to run. “Billie…” You whispered, pressing your hands on her shoulders to keep her just out of range.

“Just let me show you.” Billie pleaded, your faces only inches apart. If you would just release your grip, even just a hair, she would be able to do it.

“We can’t.” You stated, holding firm.

“Why not?” Billie practically whined.

“Because I won’t wait 60 years.” You shot back.

“Do you still love me?” Billie asked.

“You know I do.” You said with a sigh, relieved when Billie finally stopped pushing against you, but she still was close, too close. Close enough that you were teetering on the edge of losing all willpower and burrowing into her arms.

“Y/n, I was scared out of my mind. The accident….” Billie fumbled, trying to put a million complicated feelings into one simple sentence.

You nodded slightly, “I know.”

“I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. I  _ can’t _ lose you.” Billie said firmly.

“I told you I loved you and you kicked me out.” You stated, the bitterness creeping its way into your tone.

Billie softened, “I know, and I’m sorry, I am. Sweetheart, you  _ know _ I care about you.”

You swallowed thickly, “And I care about you, you know I do.”

“Then  _ stay _ .” Billie said, drawing out every letter.

You shook your head, “It’s not that simple.”

Billie was emphatic now, practically wailing, “It  _ is _ , I love you and you love me.” She didn’t even realize she was saying it, the words slipping out so effortlessly the second she wasn’t thinking about it. But something changed in the expression on your face, and she had to ask, “What?”

“Say it again.” You insisted.

“What? That I love you and you love me?” Billie asked, the words taking a moment to register, a brief moment of panic rushing through her irises. Her shoulders relaxed, like a weight had been lifted, and she looked back at you. “I love you.” She said, like she was realizing it for the first time, like she hadn’t spent months staring at the wall and thinking it over and over again.

You let out an amused, breathy laugh, “Wasn’t so scary, was it?”

“Terrifying, actually.” Billie said, eyes wide like she was still considering taking it back.

“Only when you thought about it.” You teased, a genuine smile finally gracing your lips.

The medium started fidgeting, like a kid anxiously awaiting a treat, “Can I kiss you now?” She needed reassurance, needed something familiar to remind herself she wasn’t alone in this, that the words didn’t just simply vanish into thin air, that all her anxiety and suffering wasn’t for nothing. Your grin grew wider, and she instinctively stepped forward, leaning into you, but at the last moment you stepped back.

“No, but you can take me upstairs.” 


End file.
